


The Unfortune Teller

by peterparkr



Series: Febuwhump 2020 [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fortune Telling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Whump, febuwhump 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-29
Updated: 2020-02-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22958581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterparkr/pseuds/peterparkr
Summary: The words ‘Fortune Teller’ stretch across the banner in a sprawling white script, clipart crystal balls on either side. Someone has made a slight modification to it, taping a piece of paper in front of the first word. There are two block letters on it, ‘UN’.“Unfortune Teller,” Tony reads aloud, tilting his head to the side. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”ORA woman in a carnival booth predicts Peter's deathFebuwhump Day 13: Unfortune
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2020 [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620064
Comments: 22
Kudos: 250





	The Unfortune Teller

**Author's Note:**

> How did this get so long? How is it the last day of February?

“Wow, look at that!” Peter points forward, head tilting over his shoulder. “Can we do it?”

Tony follows his finger to a carnival booth. It looks like it’s been shut down for the night—a deep blue curtain covering the front of it. But there’s a sign, a little to the left of center, that says it’s open. 

A banner—that looks like it was bought at a pop-up Halloween store—hangs along the top edge of the curtain. The words ‘Fortune Teller’ stretch across it in a sprawling white script, clipart crystal balls on either side. Someone has made a slight modification to it, taping a piece of paper in front of the first word. It’s the wrong shade of blue—just enough to give the impression that they were trying to match the color and failed. There are two block letters on it, ‘UN’.

“Unfortune Teller,” Tony reads aloud, tilting his head to the side. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

May laughs and swats at his arm.

Tony offers her a smile, unsure if he’s supposed to apologize for cursing in front of her nephew. 

He doesn’t know why he was invited along on the Parker family trip to the carnival. He’s flattered, of course. And grateful to have finally won May over after weeks of stone-cold silence that transitioned into begrudged cordiality, and then, somehow, something like a friendship.

He’s just not sure how to act with the two of them at a fair. There’s a certain impression that they give off—like they’re a family or something. It’s very clear who it looks like Tony’s replacing. 

He tried to convince Pepper to come along as a buffer. She was adamant in her refusal, citing a fear of clowns. Tony hasn’t seen a single one so far. He's also never heard Pepper voice that particular fear in all the years that he's known her.

It’s fine. So far, he has everything under control.

Peter practically runs to the booth, scanning the fine print under the ‘Open’ sign. He trudges back over to them, smile gone from his face.

“Never mind. It doesn’t take the tickets—have to pay extra.”

“Guess you’ll have to go on the Gravitron instead. You should have enough for at least three more times.” May turns to Tony. “We had to pry him out of that thing when he was younger.”

It’s an awkward ‘we’—a clear reference to Ben. Tony doesn’t know what to do with it. The last thing he wants is to step on any toes. This is why Pepper should have come. She knows how to handle these things better than he does.

“It’s less fun now that I can actually stick to walls,” Peter says. “Let’s do the Ferris wheel instead.”

“Ferris wheel it is.” May grabs Peter’s arm and starts leading him toward the center of the fair.

Tony doesn’t move. He looks back at the ugly fortune-telling booth. 

“Wait,” he calls, fishing in his pocket for the wad of cash he’d taken out in preparation for the carnival not accepting cards. “I’ve got this.”

“Mr. Stark, you don’t have to.” It’s supposed to be a protest, but Peter’s already bounding back to him, wide grin lighting up his face.

May follows with more hesitation. “You  _ really  _ don’t have to.”

Tony shrugs, holding a twenty out to Peter. “If the kid wants to go behind the creepy curtain, he can go behind the creepy curtain.”

Peter takes the cash eagerly. “Will you guys do it too?”

“Pass,” May says, putting her hands up and backing away. “I think I’ve had enough ‘unfortune’ to last a lifetime.”

“Aw, come on, it’ll be fun!” Peter shifts his face into a pout and clasps his hands together.

“There’s nothing you can say that will get me in that booth.”

“May,” Peter whines.

“Peter,” she mimics in the same tone.

They bicker a bit more. Tony fiddles with his glasses as he listens. They’re going in circles, neither of them gaining any traction or giving up ground on the issue. 

“I’ll do it,” Tony pipes up. They both turn to him and he struggles to hold back a wince. He doesn’t know if it’s over-stepping. He plows forward anyway. “It’s just a carnie back there. They’ll wave a few cards, maybe read a palm or two, so why not? As long as you go first, Pete.”

“Deal,” Peter says.

May shoots Tony a look that he’s surprised to find is more pleased than annoyed. He guesses that means he did the right thing.

“I’m getting popcorn,” she says. “Meet you boys by the Ferris wheel.”

“Bye, May,” Peter chirps, before turning to Tony. “Let’s do this!”

They walk up to the sign. It says 15 dollars per person. Tony is the first to admit that he’s a little out of touch with the day-to-day costs of things, but it seems a little pricey.

Whatever makes the kid happy.

“Where do you think we go in?” Peter whispers.

Tony reaches out and grabs the curtain. He starts to tug on it only for the fabric to be ripped out of his hands.

He takes a step back, heart speeding up an unreasonable amount.

“Woah,” Peter breathes.

A short man with sunken eyes—circles under them so dark that they look like bruises on his pale skin—peeks his head out from between the curtains. His mouth twists into a lackluster variation of smile and then he steps out, making sure they can’t see inside as he does.

Tony can’t contain a snort at the outfit. He’s seen nicer robes on trick-or-treaters clad in Hogwarts attire. This guy’s is made of a fabric so cheap and thin that it’s practically transparent. Tony can see a faded Yankees T-shirt underneath it. There are felt stars stuck to the outside, some of them peeling off around the edges. 

“Hello,” he intones. “Welcome to the Unfortune Teller. Behind this curtain awaits the answers to all of the questions you’re too afraid to ask, glimpses of your worst nightmares, and the confirmations of your biggest fears. Her divine excellence graciously uses her gifts to clear the fog that shrouds the future and bestow upon you this knowledge.”

His voice is almost completely monotone—no inflection on the words. Tony can’t believe he’s dropping thirty bucks on this. The least they could do is have a good presentation.

Peter’s still eating it up. He elbows Tony and makes a spooky ‘oooh’ sound while wiggling his fingers.

“Who will be the first to stare into the face of their own unfortune?”

Tony nudges Peter forward. “This guy.”

The little wizard dude holds out his hand. “Fifteen dollars.”

Peter gives him the twenty. The guy pockets it without making any move to offer change.

“Um.” Peter looks back at Tony in confusion, then forward. “That was a twenty—so—er.”

A slow, real smile cracks across the guy’s face for the first time. He points up at the banner. “Unfortunate.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “You’re only getting ten for me then, buddy.”

The smile falls off his face and he glares before ushering Peter toward the booth. The curtain swishes and then they’re gone.

Tony stares at the fabric until it stops swaying. Then he leans on the side of the booth and looks around. 

They’re on the very outskirts of the carnival and it’s late enough that the place is starting to clear out. Most of the booths that Tony can see already have closed signs up, but the lights on them are still flashing, faint carnival music filling the air. 

An uneasy feeling starts to creep through him—like he’s suddenly the only person alive at the remains of an abandoned fairground. It’s ridiculous, because he can hear the squeals of children closer to the center and the screams of the people on the rides that are still running. There’s even a guy a few yards from him—eating the cotton candy from his stand since there’s no one else around to do so.

He makes eye contact with Tony and raises his eyebrows. Tony shakes his head and looks away.

He starts tapping his foot. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Peter go into the booth alone. It does seem kind of odd in hindsight. But, May didn’t say anything about it. He starts rubbing under the metal band on his wrist, trying to decide how long he should give it before tearing down the goddamn curtain. He doesn’t want to ruin the night by causing a scene. But it would be worse for something to happen to the kid.

Just as Tony’s about to barge inside, the curtain shifts and Peter stumbles out. His face is pale, taking on an almost sickly glean, accentuated by the glare of flashing lights from the booths around them. He looks up at Tony, eyes wide, and then darts over to him.

Tony’s mind starts to race through possibilities. He tries to shut them down. Peter can take care of himself. He’s proven that time and time again. And he doesn’t look hurt, just scared.

“What’s wrong? See a ghost in there?”

Peter shakes his head. He grabs Tony’s arm and starts dragging him away. He’s strong enough that it’s effective. Tony’s feet start to slide through the mud.

“Woah, kid, slow down.” Tony tries to dig his heels in with little success. “Come on. Stop for a minute. What happened?”

Peter doesn’t stop until the letters on the Unfortune Teller sign are no longer legible, then he looks around warily, ducking behind one of the abandoned booths. Even with no one in sight, he keeps sweeping his head around.

“You’re scaring me,” Tony says. He means it. His heart is racing. “Look at me. What happened?”

Peter turns to face him, but his eyes keep sliding away and darting in all directions—something paranoid and frantic behind them. 

“She knew,” he says.

He doesn’t elaborate, just keeps turning to analyze the shadows.

“That’s her whole deal right—bestowing of the knowledge and all that jazz.” Tony forces himself to chuckle a little.

“No, Mr. Stark.” Peter runs his hands through his hair, and leaves them there. It makes him look even more crazed than he already did. “She  _ knew _ . Who I am.”

Tony blinks. “You mean—”

“ _ Yes. _ She said, ‘Hi,  _ you know what _ ’ as soon as I walked in!”

There’s no possible way that she could actually know. “She probably greets every teenage boy that way. The city is kind of obsessed with Spid—”

“Don’t say it!” Peter’s voice rises before falling into hushed tones. “Not here.”

Tony’s mouth hangs open for a minute. He snaps it shut, watching Peter carefully. His hands are shaking in their position on his head. He brings them down and starts kneading them together. 

“Okay,” Tony says slowly. “I don’t think this fortune lady was a good idea. My bad. Let’s forget about it—we can go ride the Ferris wheel with May.”

“That’s not all,” Peter blurts out. “She said I’m going to die before I graduate high school—in space.”

The unease from earlier returns, sending pangs out from his chest. They quickly morph into heated energy, igniting a ball of all-consuming fury deep in his stomach.

“Fuck that,” he mutters.

He turns and stalks back toward the booth. Peter trails behind him, zigzagging from one of his sides to the other, trying to get him to stop. 

“You can’t go in there, Mr. Stark,” he begs. “You’re right. Let’s forget about it and go find May.”

“Nope,” Tony bites out. 

They’re close enough to the booth now that he can see the sign has been flipped from open to closed.

“Stay here,” he orders Peter.

“Mr. Stark, please, it’s closed, and it’s—it’s scary.”

“I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

He whips the curtain open and ducks inside.

The guy in the stupid cheap costume gets up in his face immediately. “You can’t come in here. We’re closed and you haven’t paid.”

Tony glares down at him. “Where’s the lady?”

“You. Haven’t. Paid.”

He reaches for his wrist and pulls on the band there, releasing his gauntlet. It folds out around his hand with a series of fluid movements, mechanisms whirring. He holds his palm up towards the guy. The whine of his repulsor fills the tent.

The guy cringes and then dives out of the way, throwing his hands over his head and cowering on the ground.

Tony takes another step forward. “Let’s try this again. Where is—“

“There’s no need for that, Anthony.”

Tony lowers his hand as the owner of the smooth, almost melodious, voice steps out of the shadows. 

If Tony was marketing this operation, he would have her give the welcome speech out front. She fits the part—outfitted in a deep purple satin dress, corkscrew curls creating a halo around her head. She’s drawn three thick gold horizontal lines that curl at the edges below each of her eyes. They sparkle when they catch on the dim candle-light.

He side-steps around the guy and approaches her. She squints a little and cocks her head to the side.

“It’s not impressive to know my name,” he says. “Most people do.”

The corners of her mouth turn upward. “That’s very true, Anthony. Would you like a more adequate demonstration?”

“Nope.” Tony crosses his arms. “I would like an explanation, though.”

“I have many of those.”

“Mmhm. Sure.”

She just looks at him. Her eyebrows are raised in an ever so slight good-natured way, as if she's trying to show that she's open and inviting. It's driving Tony crazy. 

“Who exactly do you think you are? Telling a kid that he’s going to die? You do see how messed up that is, don’t you? You just predicted a child’s death—to his face. I don’t know if this is your first time with this sort of gig, but you’re supposed to tell him that he’ll meet the love of his life in five years or that he’ll name his first-born child—I don’t know—Albert.”

“He’s already met the love of his life. And that’s not the name of his first-born,” she says simply. “This is an Unfortune establishment, Anthony. It says so on the sign. We deal in the darker truths of the future.”

“Do you have a license to do this? What’s your name?”

She purses her lips, seemingly deep in thought for a moment. “I don’t believe that I give you my name on our first meeting, Anthony.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, give me a break. You aren’t having another meeting with me—or anyone else at this carnival after I talk to whoever runs it.”

She just gives another half-smile. Her eyes look almost sad—not for herself, Tony realizes. It’s pity. His teeth start to grind together.

“He’s terrified, you know. Is that what you wanted? You can’t go around spouting random bullshit to a kid about how they’re going to die.”

“It’s not random bullshit, Anthony. The pur—”

“Drop the act!” Tony throws his hands up. “You aren’t going to convince me that you’re some all-knowing entity!”

She patiently watches him until he finishes, then continues as if he hadn’t spoken. “The purpose of an unfortune reading isn’t to scare people. It’s to give them a chance to prepare themselves. Change their fate when they can, accept it when they can’t. I wouldn’t give one to the weak of mind. I know you care about the boy. Peter is strong. He can handle it.”

Tony barks out a few strips of laughter. “This is ridiculous.”

She turns from him and picks up a candle. She blows it out, sets it back down, then moves on to the next. “Is there anything you would like to know, Anthony?”

“Don’t you already know my answer?”

She chuckles. “It’s a courtesy to ask.”

Tony feels his nose twitch. He taps the gauntlet, letting it retract back into a band before he slaps the curtain out of his way. “I’m going to the organizer of the carnival. Just wanted to give you a fair warning.”

He steps out of the booth. Peter’s head snaps up from the spot that Tony left him in, relief flooding into it at Tony’s return.

“Anthony?”

Tony lets out a deep sigh, but still pauses and turns his head just enough that she’ll know that he’s listening.

“Even if you had asked for your reading, I wouldn’t have given it to you.”

Tony bristles. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, swallows down the anger, and continues forward, letting the curtain fall shut behind him. He doesn’t look back.

* * *

The carnival has no record of a registered Unfortune Teller. There’s no trace of her or the phrase on the internet either. Tony has FRIDAY scour it and then searches himself just to be sure. There’s nothing—even in the darkest, most secret corners of the web.

“What else did she tell you?”

Peter looks up from the hologram of his suit. “At the carnival? Uh—a lot.”

“Like what?”

Peter goes back to work as he speaks. “Well, she said I’ll lose more than I’ll win.

Tony waves that one off. “Everyone loses more than they win. That’s just life.”

“I don’t really think it’s measurable. It depends on what you see as losing.”

Tony watches Peter manipulate the hologram for a few seconds before answering. The kid’s wise sometimes—surprisingly so when his biggest pastimes are playing with legos and getting himself into vigilante-related trouble.

“What else did she say?”

He starts to worry his lip. “I told you the death thing. Um. She said I’ll never live in one place for over a year.”

Tony makes a mental note to check how long the Parkers have been in their current apartment.

“And she said that I’ll, uh, outlive my oldest daughter?” Peter shrugs and then laughs a little.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Tony says, a grin sneaking onto his face. “She said you were supposed to die before you graduate. It’s bullshit.”

“Unless  _ a lot _ happens in the next two years,” Peter jokes.

Tony glares at him.

“I mean, it was a carnival fortune-teller, Mr Stark,” he adds. “It’s supposed to be bullshit. She just freaked me out with the Spider-Man thing, but you were right. She probably says it to everyone.”

That’s what Tony believes too. Or that’s what he desperately wants to believe. He can’t seem to shake the feeling from the carnival. The Unfortune Teller is in his head. He sees her in every purple outfit on the street and every glint of light catching on the gold of his suit. She’s in his dreams.

“Did she say anything else?”

Peter hesitates and then shakes his head, biting his lip.

“You’re a terrible liar, even when you don't speak,” Tony says. “What can be worse than your death—or your kid’s death?”

“It’s just, she talked about you a lot.”

The idea of the woman telling Peter anything about him leaves a bad taste in his mouth and only enhances the unsteady prickling in his stomach.

“What did she say?”

“Um.” Peter won’t meet his eyes. “She talked about the—adults in my life, you know? I think she said parental figures—“

He trails off, as if waiting for Tony to interject. His words become a little steadier when he doesn’t.

“She said our paths were destined to cross—that we’re meant to bring out the best in each other.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad thing,” Tony says cautiously.

“She didn’t say it was—at least, not exactly.”

“Not exactly,” Tony repeats. “What does that mean?”

“Well, it’s like—she said that by bringing out these positive things in each other, we’re solidifying our fates. And our fates ‘lead us to unfortunate ends’ or something like that.”

“Unfortunate ends,” Tony repeats.

A dull roar starts up in his ears. Peter’s mouth is still moving across the lab. There’s a smile on it and his hands are gesturing around.

Words from the introduction float into this mind— _ glimpses of your worst nightmares, and the confirmations of your biggest fears.  _ He doesn’t need a glimpse because he’s had this nightmare before. He’s seen his team laid out around him, dying because of him. He’s dreamed of Peter flattened under collapsed buildings, Peter shot in an alley, and now, Peter in space. Tony doesn’t tend to improve the livelihood of those around him. He’s always worried about his presence in Peter’s life—how damaging it could be for a kid. Pepper, Rhodey, Happy—they’re all old enough to know what they’re getting into. Peter can’t understand that fully, not yet.

The roar starts to fade as Peter’s smile shifts into a confused frown.

“Mr. Stark? Did you hear me?”

“What?” The room seems too quiet now, the single word echoes around it.

“I was just saying that I don’t know how she came up with all that stuff! It seems kind of sick—thinking up shit you can say to really mess with people.”

“Yeah,” Tony replies, voice shaky. “It’s screwed up.”

“Well, I've got to go. May’s here.” Peter slings his backpack over one shoulder. “See you tomorrow?”

“Okay,” Tony mumbles on autopilot before his thoughts catch up. “Actually—“

Peter stops by the door, half-turning back.

“I’m busy tomorrow. Sorry, kid.”

“Oh. Okay. Later in the week then?”

Tony nods. He’ll come up with an excuse then.

He watches the door close and then leans forward, hands pressing flat into the table. His whole thing with the kid was supposed to be to protect him—make sure he didn’t kill himself fighting bad guys in his glorified onesie. He was supposed to be no more than a set of eyes watching from the distance. It was never meant to lead to this—whatever he is to the kid, now. It might be time to start pulling away again.

The rational part of his brain recognizes that he’s being ridiculous. Its paranoid counterpart whispers the opposite—what if he’s not. 

He hangs his head and makes a decision.

It’s not that hard, really. He refuses to be the one that leads to Peter’s unfortunate end.

* * *

Settling back into the hands-off approach is like returning home after a long vacation—everything feels different, even though it’s the same way he left it. Somewhere along the way, he managed to convince himself that the brief respite was his new normal. He should have known better.

He still upgrades the suit of course and scans through the footage that Karen provides with arguably more fervor than before. 

Similarly, Peter still has access to the tower. Whenever he comes into the lab, Tony makes a quick escape, excusing himself for business meetings that don’t exist or paperwork that Pepper usually does for him.

It only takes a month for Peter’s demeanor to shift from normal to hurt to accepting. He starts to come by less often. Even though that was Tony's goal, he still finds himself watching the lab door out of the corner of his eye every afternoon, waiting for Peter to stride inside.

When the kid does drop by, it’s on a Thursday morning with a bullet-hole covered suit in his hands. The sight of it makes Tony’s heart skip around even though he’s already watched the video of the fight at least ten times and checked Peter’s vitals triple that.

“Are you okay?” he asks, trying to keep his voice even—concerned but not overly so.

Peter nods. “Just bruised. They were shooting from pretty far away. And, well, your suit’s the best, Mr. Stark.”

Tony takes it from him and brings it over to one of the work-stations. “It’ll be done by the time you’re out of school today.”

“Thanks,” Peter says quietly. 

Tony doesn’t look up, dives straight into the work, but he can sense that Peter’s still there.

“Can I ask you something?”

Tony closes his eyes. 

“Sure.” It comes out as a croak. He clears his throat. “Shoot.”

“Did I—um—did I do something wrong?”

A thick lump forms by his Adam’s apple. He tries to swallow around it, but doesn’t quite succeed. 

He wants to assure Peter that’s not the case at all—that it couldn’t be further from the truth. The kid’s the best of them. Or he will be one day. He has to live long enough to make it there—which is what Tony is trying to make sure he gets to do. 

Tony doesn’t know how to say that without falling back into the role he carved out for himself in Peter’s life. 

So, instead, he keeps his eyes downcast, narrowed in on the suit in front of him. “Nope.”

He blinks a few times in the silence that follows, trying to stop the ache behind his eyes from overtaking him.

“Um. Okay.”

There are footsteps and then the sound of the door easing shut. Tony buries his face in his hands.

Later that night, after Peter’s picked up his suit without saying a word, Tony’s still slumped over on a lab bench. 

There’s nothing pressing to work on, but he can’t bring himself to leave. He’s desperately tinkering to take his mind off of Peter and the future and the goddamn woman in the purple dress.

There’s a call from May. He sends it to voicemail, and waits for FRIDAY to announce that she’s left a message.

“Play it,” he says, once she does.

There's a beep and then, “Hi, Tony."

He groans and shifts his head so his forehead is flat against the table.

“I didn’t like you at first. We both know that.”

Tony lifts his head and lets it knock down onto the surface a few times.

“But your intentions have always been in the right place. You’re a good man.”

He’s not so sure about that. He tries. Some days he does better than others.

“But whatever you’re doing now, for whatever reason.This isn’t—” She sighs. “It’s not the right thing. Not for Peter. That’s all I wanted to say.”

She doesn’t understand. Peter’s better off upset than dead. That’s the fate that awaits him if Tony goes back down the road he had been on. 

He can’t explain that to anyone. They would think he’s crazy for even considering the words of the Unfortune Teller. They wouldn’t understand that the threat was there all along, she just breathed new life into it, finally allowing him to see the full extent of what he already knew.

Whether she was right or not about Peter’s demise doesn’t really matter. Tony’s the problem. A month and a half ago, the kid would have followed him anywhere. And if Tony’s track record is anything to go by, the destination wouldn’t be good.

* * *

May and Peter move into their new apartment one day before what would have made a full year at their old place. Tony strolls past on the other side of the street, cap pulled low over his head and dark sunglasses on. 

He doesn’t know the reason for the move. It’s none of his business anymore. They look happy, though—which is good. May laughs as Peter picks up a truly absurd amount of boxes and holds out her arms until he dumps one off into them.

One more day. Just one more day and it would have made a full year. Tony wonders if Peter’s thinking about that too.

As ridiculous as it sounds, he has a feeling that the Unfortune Teller is watching it unfold as well, from wherever she is. She’s probably laughing at him.

* * *

There’s a metal donut in the sky and Peter’s rising towards it. 

It’s way too close to the ‘Peter in space’ visions that have haunted Tony for almost a year.

“Pete, you’ve gotta let go,” he says. “I’m going to catch you.”

“You said save the wizard,” Peter shouts back.

Tony squeezes his eyes shut. He did say that. Even when he tries to remove himself from Peter’s life, he still manages to put him in harm’s way.

“You’re too high up.” Way too high—Tony can’t let him leave the atmosphere. “You’re running out of air.”

Peter falls and the Iron-Spider suit adheres around him just like it was meant to. Tony sends him home, watching the parachute emerge as Peter gets sucked down and around the ship. Once he’s out of sight, Tony finally feels like he can breathe again.

It doesn’t last for long because the kid manages to stow away somehow.

He holds his hands up defensively. “I know what you’re going to say—“

Tony stares at him. He can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. He glances out the window. The Earth is shrinking against a backdrop of stars. It seems like some cosmic joke. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispers.

“I was going to go home, but it was such a long way down and—“

“You shouldn’t be here,” Tony repeats with more force.

Peter’s mouth shifts into a pinched line. “Is this about—“

“Quiet. I need to think.” Tony looks around the ship—there’s the wizard and his captor, not much else to use in the great jail-break plan that he desperately needs to come up with. “We need to get the wizard and get back to Earth. Now.”

Peter raises his hand. Tony sighs and points at him.

“Did you ever see this really old movie, Aliens?”

It’s a good plan. They send Squidward flying out into space and save Strange.

He’s still a pain in Tony’s ass—doesn’t seem grateful at all for the rescue. Typical. 

“It’s on autopilot. Can you get us turned around?”

Tony’s already working on it, albeit not very successfully. His hands won’t stop shaking as he messes with the controls.

“Stark,” Strange barks. 

Tony doesn’t look up. “Yeah. Yes. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Honestly? Not much.”

He glares over his shoulder. The worst part is that Strange isn’t wrong—all Tony’s done is poke at buttons, intermixed with countless breaks to flex his hands to try to calm them. 

“Give me a second,” he says.

“I’m sorry—you do realize the vast implications of the situation that we’re in, don’t you? The whole world— _ universe _ , has the threat of mass extinction breathing down its neck. We need to get the stone back on Earth now.”

“Actually,” Peter chimes in. “I have an idea—well, it’s more of a thought.”

Tony’s been trying not to look at him—pretend he’s back home where he belongs. Peter’s voice, the reminder that he is  _ here _ , right where Tony never wanted him to be, sets his hands off again. He closes his eyes and tucks his arms to his body to try to contain the tremors and the dread pooling in his chest. 

“Believe me, buddy,” he says, ignoring Peter. “I want to get back to Earth more than anyone—”

“Mr. Stark—”

Strange takes a few steps toward Tony, until he’s looming over him—too close. “Then why aren’t you working on it?”

Tony flinches automatically before collecting himself and jutting his chin out. “Maybe if you would shut up and let me—"

“You guys,” Peter interrupts. “Listen. I think—”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath. It hurts his chest. He tries to breathe it out slowly as he turns to Peter. “Enough. You shouldn’t even be here. Do you understand how much more difficult you’ve made this?”

Peter’s eyes flash wide with hurt and then narrow in anger. “I can’t believe you’re still hung up on the carnival prophecy. That was a year ago! And it’s not real. She was just a regular lady trying to make a few bucks by scaring people.”

Strange’s eyebrows knit together. “Prophecy?”

No matter how slow or quick Tony tries to breathe, it doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. His head is starting to pound too, a deep migraine settling in behind his eyes. He rubs them, then the area just below his collarbone. 

Peter throws his hands up. “It wasn’t real! Just a fortune teller at a fair-booth.”

“Unfortune,” Tony corrects. His voice sounds far away.

Peter still hears it, rolling his eyes. “My bad.  _ Un _ fortune teller.”

“What did she say?” Strange asks.

“Weren’t you the one that was so adamant about us wasting time?” Tony snaps.

He paces over to the window, hoping to find some refuge from the conversation and the stifling walls of the donut. All that meets him is darkness—as far as he can see. The Earth is gone. He doesn’t know what he expected. His chest starts to pang sharper and he turns his head away.

“She said I would die in space before I graduated high school.”

“That’s awfully specific,” Strange murmurs. “And outlandish for anyone who isn’t in your—unique position.”

Tony clenches his jaw together, bites the inside of his cheek so hard that he starts to taste blood. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

“I don’t get why you care.” Peter crosses his arms. “You’ve made it really clear that you want nothing to do with me.”

It’s like a cold knife plunges into Tony, lancing through him until he’s frozen. He doesn’t so much as breathe. 

It feels like he’s stuck for a long time, but it must not be, because Strange and Peter don’t move either. He blinks a few times in rapid succession. 

“That’s not—” he trails off, shaking his head to try to clear the barrage of thoughts—all of them a little dim under fuzzy layers of panic.

He turns, stumbles a few steps away, and finds his legs have become as unsteady as his hands. They wobble as he walks. 

The Unfortune Teller has been in his head for a year, Thanos for six. It makes sense that they would both come to a climax at once. He doesn’t know why he never prepared for that. He chuckles a little. Some futurist he is.

His legs are on the verge of quitting by themselves so he does them a favor and staggers a few more feet over to the side of the ship before leaning on it and sinking to the ground. He lets his head flop forward into his hands, digging his heels into his eye sockets. He tries to focus on the pressure there and block out the rest. He pictures dipping his brain into a bucket of ice until it’s completely numb—unable to produce any coherent thoughts, especially not at the pace of the panicked ones zipping around it now.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice is garbled at first, and then closer, more clear. “Mr. Stark?”

“Well, this is just fantastic,” Strange says, sarcasm laced through each word.

“Mr. Stark, hey,” Peter repeats. “Are you okay?”

Tony waits a few more seconds, until he reaches some approximation of an equilibrium and then lifts his head, squinting at Peter with a tight smile.

“Yup, great.”

“You know, there  _ are  _ ways to see versions of the future. You can use an artifact.” Strange’s hands fiddle with the time stone in his necklace. “Or some people—and other beings—are naturally gifted. This prophecy of yours isn’t outside the realm of possibility.”

Tony’s hands are shaking again. He brings them up to cover the lower half of his face.

“No disrespect, Dr. Strange, sir, but I don’t think that’s helping.”

The wizard shrugs unapologetically, but doesn’t say anymore. He even turns away, goes over to look at the controls himself.

Peter sits down about a foot to Tony’s right. He turns his head to look over at him. “Are you really okay?”

Tony chuckles, shakes his head once before transitioning to a half-shrug, half-nod. “You really didn’t think about it at all? When you decided to stay up here on the ship? No part of you thought to play it safe—just in case?”

Peter shrugs. “I mean, of course I thought about it, Mr. Stark. How could I not?”

“Then why didn’t you go back?”

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly. “I mean, what are the odds that she’s actually gifted like Dr. Strange said and not just a regular person spouting nonsense?”

“Kid, you wouldn’t let me clean a stain out of your suit once because you had a quote unquote ‘cool fight’ with it so you thought it was good luck. It smelled like garbage. I think it  _ was _ garbage. You can’t tell me that all superstition has left you.”

Peter laughs, gives Tony the most genuine smile he’s seen on his face in a long time. “It was shaped like a star! I forgot about my lucky stain. I can’t believe you remember that.”

Tony sniffs and looks away. He sees the smile melt off of Peter’s face in his peripheral vision.

“Okay, so honestly? She does still freak me out a little. Remember how she said that I would never live in one place for more than a year? So, there was this leak, right? And I noticed it and thought, okay, I’m going to fix that just in case, so there’s no reason for us to move out. Well I ended up yanking too hard on something and bursting a pipe. And thank god they determined it was a problem with how the plumbing was put in, but May and I had to move out  _ because  _ of what I did to try to prove the lady wrong. A  _ day _ before what would have been a year.”

Tony finds himself hanging on to every word. There are chills running up and down his spine, goosebumps popping up along his skin. It leaves him with the same uneasy feeling that he always gets when he thinks of the woman in the purple dress.

“I don’t want what she said to control me,” Peter mumbles. “So, when you put the parachute out of my suit, of course for a second I was like, okay, good, I’ll never get to space and then maybe I’ll make it to graduation. But then I thought, it’s kind of like the pipe, you know? I wouldn’t have even tried to fix it if not for what the lady said, so I was falling and I thought, what would I do right now if I’d never gone into that booth. And I think I would have stayed on the ship. So, that’s what I did.”

Tony runs through the words in his mind. He doesn't know quite what to make of them. Peter has all the same thoughts and fears that he has, but doesn’t seem nearly as paralyzed by them. 

“And maybe that’s still overthinking it, I don’t know. But also, Mr. Stark, maybe if I die here, it’s to help people, you know? I mean, this Thanos guy is really bad news, right? If I can stop him, that’d be good, I think. I would be okay with that.”

Tony clasps his hands together then rubs them over his face. He lets out a long sigh. “I wouldn’t be.”

“But if you were me, you would be.”

He’s right, but Tony doesn’t give him the satisfaction of confirming it. Mostly because it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not Tony, it’s Peter who’s at risk here. He’ll never be okay with that.

“Can I tell you my thought now? You’re not going to like it.”

“Why would you tell me if you know I’m not going to like it?”

“You won’t like it, but you’ll agree with it.”

Tony quirks an eyebrow.

Peter explains. Every word he’s saying makes sense. Thanos will expect them to go home as soon as he finds out that they have Strange. His other cronies are already there, probably ripping the stone out of Vision’s head as they speak. It makes more sense for them to continue forward, take the fight to Thanos.

Tony doesn’t like it, but he agrees with it.

He wrestles with himself for a while. He feels the lady sitting on his shoulder, watching him with her faux-innocent smile.

He decides to follow Peter’s lead and not listen to her.

“We’re not going home,” he calls to Strange.

He’ll think about those words later—after they’ve made it to Titan, botched up the plan to subdue Thanos, and Peter’s looked up at him with a wry, sad smile that turned into a grimace of pain and said “I guess she was right then.”

Tony doesn’t know if she was. Because Peter would have died regardless of if they turned the ship around or if he never was on it in the first place. The snap split the whole universe in half. Peter’s dust could have fallen anywhere.

* * *

Tony leaves the compound’s Medbay three days after the rest of the team returns from their mission to kill Thanos. 

He’s not supposed to be out of bed—on direct orders from a doctor after the whole screaming-at-Steve-then-collapsing-dramatically scenario. 

He waits until it’s Rhodey’s turn to sit with him, then finds a suitable way to distract the guy. They’ve known each other for long enough that he has a few tricks up his sleeve. Then he sneaks out of the compound, taking the secret escape routes he weaved into the floor plans. People forget that he built this place.

He calls an Uber, only half-surprised when one actually shows up. Even when the world has fallen apart, he supposes that at least one person can be counted on to stick with their side-hustle.

He goes back to the spot where the carnival was. He doesn’t know why. It’s just a parking lot now—the carnival won’t come around until summer. Or maybe never. He doesn’t know how things are going to work in this new world.

He eases himself out of the car, shivering even though the air is warm, and looks around. The Uber pulls away, leaving him alone. 

He blinks and he can see the carnival lights. A slowed-down version of the music plays in the back of his head.  He shakes himself and blinks again. Instead of tents and rides, there are abandoned cars, a few of them crashed into each other. 

Tony scans over them until the weight of all the people who won't return to claim their vehicles becomes too much. He looks away, gaze landing on a small boutique shop. He’s surprised to see an ‘Open’ sign on the door. Pepper gave him the impression that the whole world shut after the snap. But as with the Uber driver, there are always exceptions.

If nothing else, it will offer him some warmth, maybe a place to sit down for a few minutes. He’s already feeling weak and unsteady from the brief exertion.

He limps over and pulls the door open. The bell rattles as he steps inside.

The shop is empty. It looks like it’s been looted, too. Some of the shelves are wiped nearly clean—only a few items haphazardly strewn across them. The 'Open' sign was probably left from before Thanos.

He walks along one of the aisles anyway, one hand on the shelves to brace himself. 

There’s a child’s Spider-Man mask at the end of it. Five dollars and ninety-nine cents.

Tony winces and looks away.

“May I help you?”

Tony jolts, tightening his grip on the shelf to keep himself upright. He turns slowly, almost doesn’t want to.

The Unfortune Teller is standing next to the checkout desk. She’s still in purple satin, this time a pant-suit rather than the long flowy dress from before. Instead of the outlandish makeup, there’s a more practical glimmer of gold on each of her eyelids.

“Aren’t you going to say you were expecting me or something?”

She hesitates. “It was a possibility.”

A flare of heat rises. Tony points at her. “You—“

The rush of emotion makes him light-headed, bursts of light dance in his vision. He bobs his hand up and down a few times before lowering it and shaking his head.

“Would you like a chair, Anthony?”

“No,” he snaps.

She gives him the same pitiful expression that’s haunted him since the first time he saw it. “You’ve lost a lot—the whole world has. You’re not really angry at me. You’re in pain.”

“Oh really? That must have been hard to deduce—foresaw that in a dream, huh?”

A frown creases her forehead. “I don’t like to see people in pain. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to make a living reading peoples’ Unfortune.” Tony laughs—it ends a few notes too high, hysteria creeping into it. “You weren’t even right, you know, he didn’t have to die in space. It would have happened wherever he was.”

The frown deepens. “I simply look at variations of the future and give the most likely outcome. There were precious few scenarios where he wasn’t in space.”

Tony’s hands are shaking again, making the remaining items on the shelf dance around. He’s exhausted—in all senses of the word. Mostly, he’s tired of feeling this way. He curls his fingers into a fist and slams it on the shelf. 

The lady just raises her eyebrows.

“Give me mine then, come on. You said you wouldn’t before, so do it now.”

“Anthony—“

“Just do it! Half the world is dead, how much worse can it get?”

“I don’t think that’s advisable.”

“You won’t say it to my face, but you had no problem talking to Peter about me. He told me all of that—the ‘unfortunate ends’, yeah.” Tony swallows. “He thought I hated him for a year. He died probably thinking that I still did. That’s your fault.”

She shakes her head. “That’s a choice that you made.”

“Influenced by  _ you _ . You have to see how those two things are related.”

For the first time, she looks angry. Her eyes shine with reddish-gold flecks that look like embers. She takes a step forward and gusts of hot air blast into Tony. He brings his other hand up to the shelf, too, to hold himself upright.

The wind stops and the fire behind her eyes fades as quickly as it arrived.

“People come to me and they ask for the truth. I’ve learned to hold it back—not to give it to everyone.” She turns from Tony, walking back to the desk. There’s a curtain behind it—the same color as the one that was in front of the booth. She pulls one side of it open, then looks back over her shoulder at him. “I am not a puppet master, Anthony, just a messenger. I do not control what people decide to do with the information that I give them.”

Tony leans back against the shelf after she disappears, closing his eyes. After his breathing has steadied—as close to a normal rate as it’s going to get, he slides his phone out of his pocket and calls Pepper.

“I’m already on my way,” she says. “Some woman called me 45 minutes ago.”

Tony glances over at the curtain and sighs.

* * *

After Steve and Nat have showed up at his front door with the ant-guy who’s supposed to be dead and a half-baked sci-fi novel solution—after Tony’s cracked time travel, ate a juice-pop, and put Morgan to bed, he goes back to the parking lot.

The boutique has boards across the windows, now—as so many abandoned establishments do these days. All of the cars have been removed from the parking lot.

“Anthony.”

It doesn’t really startle him. He knew what to expect when he came here.

He turns around. The Unfortune Teller’s arms are outstretched in greeting, a knowing half-smirk adorning her face. This time it’s a purple cape, a gold buckle fastening it together around her neck.

“It’s nice to see you again.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Pleasure.”

The smirk widens into a grin. “You’ve made a good life for yourself, Anthony. I was pleased to see it.”

“Yeah, well, I—" Tony’s fingers fidget. He wipes his hands on his thighs a few times. "I used to consider myself a futurist.”

“Not anymore?”

“Not really. You kind of ruined that for me.”

She hums and draws her cape tighter across her shoulders, eyes never leaving him.

“I don’t need to be one or to have whatever wacky powers you’ve got going on to see where this is all leading.”

“Time travel,” she muses. “It’s fascinating. It puts a little wrinkle around everything I can see.”

“What does that mean?”

“We’ll have to wait to find out.”

Tony averts his eyes. He starts rubbing circles around one of his wrists.

Time travel is insane. The plan is even farther off the deep end. The unknowns, the amount of things that could go wrong stretch before him like a map to the team’s collective destruction in his mind.

But he’s not the futurist he used to be. And this might be the only chance they have.

“You don’t have to do anything, Anthony. You could just—" She waves a hand. "Let it go. Enjoy that life you’ve found.”

He closes his eyes. He said as much to Pepper.

_ Would you be able to rest? _

“The first day I met Peter, he said something,” Tony says. “You probably already know—”

She waves a hand for him to continue.

“He said that when you can do something and you don’t and then the bad things happen, they happen because of you.” Tony clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “No kid is supposed to understand that kind of stuff. He should have been worrying about college applications and whether the new Star Wars movies would be good.”

“I told you that he was strong.”

“He shouldn’t have had to be.” Tony bites his lip and looks at the sky. “I can’t help but think that this is the exact kind of situation that he was talking about.”

The Unfortune Teller doesn’t say anything. The playful smile is completely gone from her face, replaced with the pity that Tony has always despised. Now, he doesn’t hate it so much for what it is, more for what it confirms.

Tony laughs. It comes out watery. “There’s no way that I survive this, is there?”

“It is unlikely,” she says, each word slow and intentional.

Tony grimaces and nods. He steps past her towards his car. “You know, you’ve never once said anything that I’ve wanted to hear. That’s actually quite impressive.”

He opens the driver’s door and lowers himself into the seat, reaching back for the door to pull it close. He stops halfway as she starts to speak.

“I’ve been involved in a lot of people’s stories—centuries worth. Some of them fade with time. But yours has touched me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Tony almost tells her that those words will be a real comfort when he’s drawing his last breath, but bites his tongue. She looks sincere. He’s starting to think that her intentions might not have been so bad all along.

He gives her a tight smile and closes the door. He shifts the car into drive, but pauses before leaving. He rolls down his window.

“You never did tell me your name.”

Once the words sink in, her face goes completely blank, as if she’s not really with Tony at all. When she comes back, her lips are curled downward in confusion.

“Maybe I was never meant to.”

Tony shrugs and presses his foot down on the pedal.

* * *

When he sees Peter, he decides that however this ends for him, it’s worth it.

Tony throws his arms around him and squeezes just to be sure that he’s alive, not pieces of dust about to crumble away. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant to—I was trying to protect you. I’m sorry.”

Peter pulls away. “What? It’s okay, Mr. Stark. But—“

“No it’s not,” Tony says desperately. He doesn’t know how much time he has. He needs to make Peter understand. “I have a kid now—“

Peter’s eyes widen. Tony continues on.

“She’s four. I would never forgive myself if anything happened to her. And with you, it was like that. I thought I could only hurt you, that’s part of why I pushed you away. But I also just didn’t know how to handle it back then. It was easier to lose you on my own terms. That’s the wrong way to do it. I know that now. I never meant to—”

“I know, Mr. Stark. I get it. But it’s my turn now, okay?”

Tony blinks. “Your turn to—to what?”

“Try to protect you.” Peter grabs Tony and throws his body over his shoulder before high-tailing it away from the battle. He keeps talking, so fast that the words stumble into each other. “I know I was the one who said not to base your actions off what the Unfortune Teller said, but that was before I disintegrated on an alien planet. It changes your perspective, you know? If I do nothing, I’m pretty sure you’re going to use the stupid stones.”

That is one of Tony’s plans. It’s his last resort—he hoped it wouldn’t come to that, despite what the UnfortuneTeller told him, but he’ll do it if he has to. “I’m supposed to die, Pete. It’s like you said, if it can save the world—I’m okay with that.”

Peter’s grip on him tightens. “Nope. No way.”

“This is a bit hypocritical.”

“Coming from you, Mr. Stark?”

“Someone has to save the world. If I’ve learned anything in the past ten years, it’s that it doesn’t tend to save itself.”

Peter keeps running. “Well, it can be someone else for once. Look at all these people!”

Tony does. There are familiar faces and ones that he doesn’t recognize. It’s incredible what the world has come to—how much it’s changed. He likes to think he played a part in shaping it.

There’s a disturbance in the sky. He squints. And then something— _ someone _ crashes through the ships.

She comes out on the other side, glowing, with a haircut that Tony’s never seen before.

“Carol Danvers.” He whistles.

“See?” Peter points at her with one hand, keeping his grip on Tony with the other. “I choose her. She looks like she’s got this.”

Peter carries him to the outskirts of the battle. They watch from afar, as the Avengers start to lose ground. 

When Thanos gains the stones, Tony turns to Peter. He’s tapping his foot rapidly, crossing and uncrossing his arms over and over again.

“It doesn’t look good, kid. He won’t leave any of us alive.”

Peter bites his lip, his leg starts bouncing impossibly faster. 

“It’s not fair,” he says. “It shouldn’t have to be you.”

They watch Carol approach Thanos. Tony takes a breath and holds it, praying against all of his instincts that tell him that he can’t change his fate.

It almost looks like she has him. Then he hits her with the power stone.

“I’ve got to go, Pete. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t look up. Tony taps his shoulder once and then takes off.

It’s easy to obtain the stones. The mechanism that he created works perfectly and he rolls away with them embedded into his suit.

Thanos snaps and it does nothing. There’s not exactly fear behind his eyes when he looks over at Tony. It’s more resigned than that. Maybe Tony’s not the only one who’s had hints of his fate.

He holds up his hand, trying to sort through the series of thoughts that flit through his head. He thinks of Pepper, Morgan, Rhodey, Peter, his whole family—most of them somewhere on this battlefield now. To his surprise, he thinks of the Unfortune Teller’s words, too, and he even finds some relief in them. He always wanted a legacy. It might have been a dream passed down from his dad, but he’s changed it a little, made it his own. He has a feeling that the Unfortune Teller won’t be the only one that remembers him. 

“Mr. Stark, wait!” Peter swings in to land in front of him. He takes a deep breath and places his hands on the gauntlet. “We'll both do it. That fits. You know it does. She did say that we’d lead to each other’s unfortunate ends.”

Tony shakes his arm but finds that Peter’s are stuck to it. “Let go. Both of us don’t have to die.”

“Maybe we do!”

“ _ Or— _ ” Tony looks up as Carol floats down next to them. “You could both calm down. Take a second to think."

He stares at her blankly, sees Peter doing the same out of the corner of his eye.

“I thought you two were supposed to be smart.” She shakes her head and jabs her thumb over her shoulder towards Thanos. “He doesn’t have the stones anymore.”

“Um.” Tony says, eloquently.

Carol rolls her eyes. “Alright then. I’ve got this. Don’t worry about me.”

She takes off again, meeting Thanos halfway between where Tony had stripped him of the stones and where they are now. Her fist collides with his chest and he stumbles back a few yards.

He tries to counter with a punch of his own, but before it can make contact, a burst of energy erupts from Carol’s hand, blasting his arm completely off. He screams in pain and she lands another hit that knocks him to the ground. 

He struggles to get up, but she places the sole of her boot on his stomach and presses down, holding him in place.

She cocks her head up to the sky and looks around. 

“Nebula?” she calls. “The honors?”

A flash of blue comes out of nowhere, leaping over rocks and landing on Thanos’ chest in front of Carol. Nebula looks over her shoulder and nods. “With pleasure.”

She plunges her sword through his neck. His hands twitch a few times before going still.

Carol turns around and cups her hands around her mouth to shout over to Tony and Peter. “See? We’re good. You can put the stones down.”

Tony releases the whole gauntlet, letting it fall to the ground with the stones embedded.

He watches it fall and then looks over at Peter. He’s staring down at the stones, mouth hanging open.

“S-she said you would use them,” he whispers. “I don’t understand. Everything else she said came true. How? I don’t—“

His voice cuts out and he covers his mouth with his hands, shaking his head back and forth.

“It’s okay,” Tony says, softly. “It’s okay.”

He’s not quite sure if he believes it. He can’t stop scanning the battlefield, waiting for Thanos to rise again, or for the tide to turn against the rest of the Avengers. He pulls Peter into his side anyway. The kid presses his head into Tony’s shoulder immediately, shaking slightly.

“I’m really tired, Mr. Stark,” he mumbles. “This has been the longest day ever.”

Because for him, they were on the donut this morning. And he’s not the only one. The missing half of the world is back. Tony pushes back the implications of all that for now and squeezes Peter tighter, patting his back a few times.

“It’s okay,” he repeats. “It’s over.”

* * *

There’s a bookshop across the street from the boutique. Tony walks in because there are blue curtains in the window.

The Unfortune Teller is sitting behind the counter. She doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading.

Tony walks over and knocks twice on the surface. She looks up slowly and then her eyes blow wide, surging with glints of red and gold. Wind starts up, strong enough that the door opens and then slams shut. 

Tony quirks an eyebrow. “Surprised?”

“I—yes,” she sputters.

“Good.” Tony takes off his sunglasses and twirls them around. “You were wrong. Don’t feel too bad about it.”

She grins and stands. “I love when I’m wrong.”

There’s the sound of faint grumbling and then the man who gave the welcome speech at the fair booth emerges from a back room. The little hair that he has is tousled, his clothes rumpled.

“You’re doing the wind thing again,” he mumbles. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, hey, this guy’s here,” Tony says. “I forgot you existed.”

The guy takes one look at Tony, frowns, and then walks back the way he came. 

“He didn’t exist for a while,” the lady says. “But, he’s back now.”

Tony didn’t think to ask if she had lost someone to Thanos. “Who is he?”

“He raised me,” she says simply. “I’m very grateful that you brought him back.”

Tony rubs his neck. He hasn’t figured out the right way to respond to such comments yet. He’s tried variations of arrogant and gracious, made ridiculous jokes that have fallen flat, and aimed for sincere but missed the mark. 

With the Unfortune Teller, he goes with honest. “Well, it wasn’t just me.”

“It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

All he can do is shrug. He tries to change the subject. “And who are you? I defied your predicted near-certain death, so, I think I might have earned your name.”

“I’m afraid it’s not as exciting as you think it’s going to be.”

Tony chuckles. “So, you’re not going to tell me that you’re God?”

“That, I am not.” She ducks her head and then looks back up at him. “My name is Kahina.”

“Kahina,” Tony repeats. He sticks out his hand. “You weren’t so bad in the end.”

“Neither were you, Anthony.” She grasps his hand firmly and shakes it. 

It’s similar to touching Carol. Tony can feel the slight vibration of untapped power flowing beneath her skin. When she lets go, he looks down at his hand.

“You know, if you harnessed that wind, plus the mostly accurate foresight thing you’ve got going on, you could make a hell of an Avenger.”

“Nothing interests me less.”

Tony snorts. “Fair enough.”

She slides back into her chair and opens the book to where she left off. She leans her chin on her knuckles and looks up at him. “Goodbye, Anthony.”

Tony thrums his fingers on the counter. “Will you be sticking around?”

“We come and we go.”

“Vague as ever.”

She smiles and looks down at her book.

Tony walks over to the door. “See you, Kahina.”

“I don’t think you will.”

“You’ve been wrong before.”

The sound of her laughter reaches his ears before the door fully closes.

* * *

Michelle announces that she’s pregnant at Peter’s 30th birthday party. 

Memories of Kahina surface—the first in at least a decade. Tony tries to catch Peter’s eye over the buzz of excitement from the relatives and friends gathered. As soon as he does, Peter looks away.

Tony finds him later, after most of the guests have left, sitting on one of the porch steps.

Tony plops down next to him with a groan. 

“Congratulations,” he says.

Peter dips his head. “Thank you.”

Tony purses his lips, debating momentarily before pressing. “It’s a girl, isn’t it.”

“I mean, as far as we know.”

Tony nods. He stares out over the lake for a minute. There are hints of gold in the water from the setting sun. “You’ve always been better at this than I am.”

Peter studies his hands, spins them around each other a few times. “It was scarier for you, right? When it was about me?”

“Yeah, it was—”

“Because I’m so scared, Tony.” Peter finally looks over at him, eyes shiny. “But, the fastest way to make sure that I’ll outlive my first-born daughter is never having a daughter in the first place, right?”

“Right,” Tony confirms.

“I just don’t want to lead to it—like with the pipe. What if I’m too protective so she gets rebellious and— _ or _ what if I go the opposite way and I try to be too unprotective and then—”

“We know first hand that not everything she says comes true.”

“I know that.” Peter rests his head in his hands for a moment before looking up. “I’m just so fucking scared. I have no idea what to do.”

“Believe it or not, that’s normal. I felt the same way with Morgan. Even without a prophecy. It’s just becoming a parent.” He nudges Peter’s shoulder with his own. “None of us have any idea what we’re doing at first. But you and MJ have a lot of people to help you guys out.”

“Yeah,” Peter whispers. “I guess so.”

“I know so.”

One side of his mouth twitches into a small smile. “Thanks, Tony.”

They lapse into comfortable silence. A gust of hot summer air blows up from the lake. Tony closes his eyes and lets it run over him. He pictures purple satin and fiery eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> According to google, Kahina means diviner/fortune teller! 
> 
> Stay tuned for my remaining 16 Febuwhump works throughout the day!
> 
> Hahahahah just kidding, I wish! I have like ten more to write I think...how did this happen?
> 
> My [tumblr!](https://peterparkrr.tumblr.com)


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